


five o'clock can't come soon enough

by fx_muldr



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 15:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18607027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fx_muldr/pseuds/fx_muldr
Summary: this was going to be multi-chaptered but i'm keeping it as a one-shot.





	five o'clock can't come soon enough

**Author's Note:**

> kudos to @beanies-coffee and @awful-grinch-named-paul on tumblr for the headcanon surnames.

Contrary to popular belief, Ted didn't always finish at five after his shift at Beanies: Hatchetfield's shittiest coffee shop. Sometimes it was at four; or at two, depending on the owner's generosity. Today though, Ted's started to think his boss isn't feeling so generous anymore.

"You're making me do what?"

"I'm sorry, Ted. We just lost Zoey and Nora to the Starbucks across the street, and we need replacements for those lost hands." Mr Davidson told him with a smug grin, clasping his hands behind his head and easing back into his creaking office chair.

It was too early on a Saturday for this.

Ted stared at him from across the desk, dumbfounded. "So you're making me come in every fucking day? Every. Fucking. Day. Including weekends?!" Surely that was illegal, unethical even. But then again, how was he to know, he failed social economics in favour of being distracted by the hotness of the teacher.

His boss raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather not come in at all?"

'Would you rather have a black eye?' Is what Ted wanted to say, but since he valued keeping his crappy job and the money that went to keeping his even crappier apartment, he said nothing, opting instead to give Mr. Davidson a tired shake of the head.

"Don't look so glum, chum. After all, you're being promoted to acting manager while I'm gone. Me and the wife are taking a little 'special cruise'." His boss told him, tapping on the framed photo of his said wife; Carol. Thankfully, the desk phone began to ring, sparing the exhausted barista from visualising that god-awful imagery. The device flew from one hand to the other as Mr. Davidson answered with a cheerful 'Hello' that was pronounced more like 'Yellow'. Mr. Davison's smile grew wide as the sound of a woman's voice could be heard on the other end. The man stopped for a second to look up at Ted, then promptly waved his empty hand in a shoo motion.

With a silent hallelujah, the tired employee swiftly made a break for the office door, his spindly legs taking only a few steps before the harsh, damp odour of the back room was quickly replenished by the various scents and spices of the shop itself; crisp coffee beans from the pots, the dreg of caramel and vanilla floating in the air and- oh, as well as that infuriating aftershave Bill was wearing from his place at the register. It was mint, which was always nice, but holy shit could it make your eyes water.  
He approached the source of the overpowering smell, that could only come from the star employee, Bill Fletcher.

Bill, with his bright smile and optimistic attitude, was busy dealing with a squeaky-voiced young boy, when Ted decided to feign a loud cough from behind, making the other man jump.

Ted laughed off the reaction while Bill handed the boy his change, and turned around to face his amused co-worker. "Fuck, Bill." Ted breathed out. "Did you bathe in raw mint or something?"

Bill shook his head and sighed in a way that meant: Here we go again. "I can see Mr. Davidson ticked you off real good in there, huh? Anyways, I like the smell! Alice says it goes well with my 'aesthetic'."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you to sleep at night, buddy." Ted replied dismissively, weaving his way to swap places at the register in time for his first shift.

"What did he say to you in there? You're not usually cranky on a Saturday." Bill asked, beginning to brew the young boy's order of a singular hot chocolate.

Ted, in fact, was cranky every day of the week. It was just that all of his co-workers had experienced it for so long that somehow, they'd built up an immunity to it.

As the cocoa machine whirred and buzzed on, Charlotte, the shop's offbeat baker, made her way to the counter from the scattered tables; her hands carrying a big (and nearly full) garbage bag. With a huff, she hoisted it onto the counter-top, nearly knocking over the 'Tip for a Song' jar in the process.

"Who's cranky?" Charlotte inquired, glancing doe-eyed between the two men. When Bill pointed in Ted's direction, the latter gave out a grumble.

"I'm not cranky." He supplied, taking a stick of bubble gum from his pocket and popping one in his mouth. "I'm just a little pissed off."

Charlotte made a sympathetic face, then gingerly patted (more like tapped) him on the shoulder in an act of meek support. "Is it because of Mr. Davidson?"

Ted scoffed. "Duh, who else? He gave me a shitty promotion. A temporary one. A temporary shitty promotion."

"Oh, yes, Emma told me about that..." She trailed off with a small smile, straightening out her pink headband. They lingered in awkward silence for a few seconds before Charlotte noted the time on the shop's wall clock. She turned her attention to Bill. "Oh, Bill, can you pass me any rubbish from over there, please. The garbagemen are supposed to show up in five minutes and I've still got three tables to get through."

Bill, who had just finished making the hot chocolate, set the cup down gently and then picked up the full bag. "I'll sort it out for you, Charlotte." He said with a grin, "Trust me, as a parent you have to know how to clean up after people."

"Would you? Oh, you're an angel!" Charlotte exclaimed just as Ted commented, "Isn't your kid seventeen?"

As she and Bill swapped places (Her hands aiming straight for the unopened delivery box labelled 'SUGAR'), the coffee shop's bell rang; indicating that a new customer had just walked in.

The customer in question, was a man around his early fifties, with full grey hair and legs long enough to rival Ted's own. In one hand, he held a leather briefcase, and in the other was a dark purple folder covered in...stickers? Ted was lazily making small bubbles with the gum when the man strode over to the counter. The employee barely had any time to say the shop's greeting as the newcomer quite abruptly asked:

"Where can I find Emma Perkins?"

Ted stared at him for a short second before raising his eyebrow "Hey, welcome to Beanie's I guess." He replied sarcastically, but the customer didn't seem to notice.

"She told me she worked here," The man told him, quickly looking behind the counter to see if he could see her. When he found no luck, he continued his explanation, placing the folder down upon the counter. "I came by to return her thesis. I'm her biology professor. Professor Hidgens."

When Ted looked down at the item, he knew it was undeniably Emma's. Who else in the tiny town of Hatchetfield would decorate their property in marijuana leaf stickers and ridiculously nice cursive handwriting (albeit they were all of swear words, but hey, art is art). He took it into his hands and looked back up to the waiting Professor.

"Sorry to break it to you, Professor dude, she's busy at another shitty paying job for the weekend."

"Oh." Professor Hidgens said quietly, but then suddenly perked back up. "You could hold onto it, till she comes back on Monday." The sentence was spoken more as a statement than a question, but Ted just absentmindedly shrugged.

"Yeah, sure I guess."

The Professor nodded and cleared his throat, seemingly thankful for Ted's acceptance. Then, he reached into his back pocket, and pulled out some change. "I'll have a large regular coffee, please. Three sugars."

Ted pushed himself away from the counter, placing Emma's folder nearby, and started to get to work on the order. He called over his shoulder as he took out a carton of milk from the fridge. "Kay, that'll be three-fifty."

He was just about to add the sugar to the cup when he heard the sound of a few coins being put into the "Tip for a Song" Jar.

_Fuck._

The jar was put up at Mr. Davidson's request, and the only ones who were ever willing to participate in the stupid regime were Nora and Zoey, and because they brought in more tips, they always got the larger share. Now that they left, the duty fell onto the rest of the workers. When he turned around, Hidgens was busy looking at the sign with confusion, rather than expecting an actual song. A part of Ted's mind sighed with utter relief, he wasn't going to ask him to sing, thank god.

"So what song are you supposed to sing?"

_Double fuck._

Ted fumbled for a way out, he busied himself with adding the sugar to the cup, as he made an excuse. "We, uh, we don't do that- I don't do that. The girls who did aren't here."

"But aren't all of you supposed to do it?"

The barista let out a frustrated sound, then whirled around to face the professor with his order. He'd managed to hold out his tongue fairly well in the face of customers, but he let it slip just a little to get this guy to stop asking about the fucking tip jar.

"I dunno Mr. None-Of-Your-Business, do I look like the kinda guy who prances about and sings all lah-dee-dah-dah-day?" With a light clink, Ted placed the coffee cup in front of the man, swept up the money, and slammed it into the cash register. "Have a goddamn good day." He grumbled, not looking back up to see Hidgens' face, before walking to join Charlotte over at the other end of the prep station.

As he approached his fellow co-worker, he heard the shop door re-open; the Professor had left. From what he could tell, Charlotte was still busy with the sugar, pouring it out of the packages and into the shop's dispensers.

"What an ass, amirite Charlotte?" Upon closer inspection, it was like she was in a daze. When the sugar was about to overspill, he waved a hand in front of her face. "Hey, Charlotte?" Her head jolted up as her brain acknowledged Ted's presence.

Charlotte's eyes followed his finger as he pointed at the full-to-the-brim sugar dispenser. "Oh! I even didn't realise."

Ted went to rub his eyes in frustration but thought better of it considering how much the contacts in his eyes were killing him already. "Did you hear what I sa-"

"ExcUSe mE"

The slightly nasal but clearly prepubescent voice of the hot chocolate boy filled the nearly customerless shop. He was peering almost at a ninety-degree angle over the counter.

"I have been waiting a very long while."

"Goddamn it, here." Ted told him, almost throwing the cup of now luke-warm chocolate at the boy, who seemed to just slink away in response. And of course, it was at this moment that Bill magically reappeared from the back room, his hands on his hips.

"Cmon', Ted. At least try and be a bit gentler to our customers."

"Gentler?" Ted replied, chucking his bubblegum into the bin. "Says the guy who only wears primary colour ties to work. It feels like my eyes are going to melt." (If he didn't get those contacts out they probably might.)

"I'm not that far off the dress code!"

"It's supposed to be black and white! You're wearing yellow!"


End file.
